An Ole’ Timey Drug Story
How it used to be!
This little story has been going around the internet and has appeared in several newspapers. But just in case you missed it (as I had), I’d like to share it with you. It is kinda cute to us ole’ timers, but there is a powerful message here as well. I snagged this copy of the story from Scragged.
The other day, someone at our local store read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the next county and he asked me, “Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?”
I told him I had a drug problem when I was young; I was drug to church on Sunday mornings, I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter what the weather.
I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn’t put forth my best effort in everything that was asked of me.
I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap if I uttered a profanity. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom’s garden and flower beds, and I pulled cockleburrs out of dad’s fields. I was drug to the homes of family, friends, and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothesline, or chop some firewood, and, if my mother had ever known I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she’d have drug me back to the woodshed.
Those days are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or heroin; and if today’s children had this kind of drug problem, America would be a better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.
Hope you enjoy and share this!
Brennan
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